


I felt you like pure silk on my pillow

by carrieevew



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bellarke January Joy, Dogs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieevew/pseuds/carrieevew
Summary: It's not that she hated Bellamy Blake, oh no. She was a mature adult and she refused to lower herself to the level where she would say that she hated this cocky arsehole who enjoyed bickering with her and riling her up with stupid comments. So no, she didn't hate him. But damn, if she didn't feel her heckles rise every time she saw a smirk on that face of his. That stupidly attractive, freckled face that always made her fingers twitch in search of a sketchbook.Crap.or:A soulmate AU but it’s Bellamy and Clarke’s dogs that are soulmates so they’re forced to hang out but they hate each other and end up falling in love.written for theBellarke January Joyevent on tumblr.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from _[All My Senses](youtube.com/watch?v=wb2K2heTHB8)_ by Goya.

The last thing Clarke saw before Picasso pulled on his leash and she landed on her arse in the snow was a black labradoodle chasing after a ball. And then, it was just a vast expanse of the sky above her and the chilling sensation of snow getting behind the collar of her coat.

She took a long, deep breath before hoisting herself up onto a sitting position. She did a mental check up of herself to see if nothing hurt more than it was supposed to and then, she finally got up, rubbing her side that took the brunt of the fall.

It was then that Clarke finally remembered that the reason she fell was because her dog ran to parts unknown, so she whipped around calling his name. Running around wasn't happening at the moment but she stumbled slowly towards where she'd last seen Picasso. Finally, after a few moments, Picasso blasted from between the trees, covered in snow and grasping something colourful between his teeth.

When he reached her, Picasso dropped what turned out to be a rubber ball with something jingling inside it, at her feet and sat at his haunches, happy as he'd ever been, his tail thumping at the snow. Clarke bent down to pick up the toy, grunting on her way down.

"Where on earth did you even find that, dude?" she asked with soft exasperation. "And by the way, next time you wanna chase some tail, give me a little warning. A sock on a door handle or something. Just because you were swiped off your feet doesn't mean I had to be, too."

As Clarke grumbled, mostly to herself because Picasso's attention was elsewhere already, the labradoodle pranced towards them and plopped herself inelegantly right next to Picasso, her long legs sticking out at her side.

"Wow, must be love if you're already bringing your date home to meet the mother," Clarke joked and rolled her eyes with a huff when all that answered her were enthusiastic stares, completely focused on the ball in her hand and not appreciating her wit.

Clarke was reaching towards the labradoodle's collar to check for a name or owner's info, amused by how eagerly she let a stranger pet her, when a man jogged from between the same trees the dogs did. There was something strangely familiar about his form and the way he moved but Clarke couldn't quite place him, not when he was bundled in a thick scarf and a fuzzy hat.

But as he came closer and she was finally able to see his face, Clarke froze for a second and she could see very clearly the moment he recognised her, too, because he halted mid-step before shaking himself lightly.

“Mr. Blake,” Clarke said tightly when he finally arrived at her side. His dog finally noticed him, too. She rolled over and jumped to her feet, running the couple of steps towards him, bumping against his knees.

"Ms. Griffin," he acknowledged with raised eyebrows and a question in his voice. Which, okay, fair. They were the only two people standing in the middle of the forest, nearly 10 miles away from Arkadia, where they both lived and taught in the town's only high school, she was curious what he was doing there, too. And a little annoyed that of all the people, she had to bump into _him_ , on a Saturday, when she had enough of him at work, during the week.

It's not that she hated Bellamy Blake, oh no. She was a mature adult and she refused to lower herself to the level where she would say that she hated this cocky arsehole who enjoyed bickering with her and riling her up with stupid comments. So no, she didn't hate him. But damn, if she didn't feel her heckles rise every time she saw a smirk on that face of his. That stupidly attractive, freckled face that always made her fingers twitch in search of a sketchbook.

Crap.

No, she didn't _really_ hate Bellamy Blake. If she were frank with herself, she would admit that the bickering was exciting, his comments and jokes weren't as biting and mean as they used to be and she always paid him back in kind. And whenever she did, he smirked at her in that ridiculous way of his, like they both knew this was some strange game that they were playing and at it never failed to pool heat at the bottom of her belly.

They stared at each other in tense silence for a while, long enough for Clarke to start wonder if maybe she shouldn't be here, that maybe he was about to snap at her and they'd be right back where they started when she joined the staff of Arkadia High nearly a year and a half ago.

Picasso's happy bark, coming from way farther than she expected, snapped them both out of the haze. They both looked towards the sound and saw that their dogs, clearly deciding that they were way too busy with each other to play with them, ignored the ball still in Clarke's hand and took off towards the tree line, chasing and tripping each other in the snow.

Clarke's head snapped sideways when she heard him chuckle at her side. He looked down at her and smiled lightly which put her at ease, a little.

"At the risk of sounding rude, what are you doing here, Mr. Blake?" Clarke asked with a small smile of her own. But she'd been coming here for months now, to those acres and acres of fenced forest where she could let Picasso run freely without worrying about him, and she'd never once met another soul, much less her colleague.

"Monty told me about it a couple weeks ago, when I mentioned there was some construction next to my house and I didn't want to walk her there," Blake explained and Clarke nodded in understanding. After all, this is exactly how she found out about this place as well, seeing how it belonged to Monty's parents. He offered her directions when Clarke had told him that Picasso was missing the long walks they used to have before they moved and there wasn't anywhere she could take him, where they lived now.

“And please, it’s Bellamy," he added, looking straight at her, making her a little dizzy. "Mr. Blake makes me feel like you’re about to ask me if any of what I’m about to say will be on the test.”

Clarke snickered and pulled out a gloved hand for him to shake. "Clarke," she said and when he took it, his large palm covering hers entirely, she swallowed and smiled weakly. He had an intense look in his eyes, almost too serious for the occasion but Clarke knew what it meant. They were starting over.

She cleared her throat when they let go and looked away, pretending that she was focusing on the dogs and not the way her hand still felt warm where he held it.

"Okay, so we’ve got you covered, what about her?” Clarke asked, looking at his dog, currently nipping at Picasso's ears, which he seemed to enjoy greatly. 

“Her name’s Silly.”

“Oh, come one, I promise I won’t laugh,” Clarke said, her face split by a wide grin.

“No, I mean she’s _named Silly_ ,” he explained, putting an emphasis on the name, making Clarke raise her eyebrows in amused confusion.

“Doesn’t sound like you’ve got much faith in your dog.”

“It’s my sister’s fault, I swear,” he insisted. Clarke just stared at him with a curious expression until Bellamy continued.

“A couple of years ago, when my sister was working at a vet’s office, they had a client with a pregnant dog, and she had a big crush on him. They guy, I mean. Obviously," Bellamy stuttered."After the puppies were born, she figured she needed an excuse to keep hanging out with him, so she told him she wanted to buy one of the pups for me and since they were too young to be taken away from the mother, she offered to help raising them, too.”

Silly pranced over to where they were standing and in her enthusiasm, tripped over her own feet and ploughed the snow with her muzzle. Bellamy snorted.

“This one right here,” he said, pointing at the dog with his hand, “was the smallest and the most awkward of the lot, so they all called her silly. So much so, that she apparently decided it was her name and when I finally got her, she wouldn’t answer to anything else. So, now she’s officially Silly,” Bellamy finished.

Clarke’s lips were pressed together as she tried to stop herself from laughing but she couldn’t hold off any longer and when Bellamy was done, she let out a laughter so loud that Picasso jumped up from where he was rolling in the snow and let out a bark.

Finally, Clarke remembered the ball she was holding and threw it to Picasso who caught it easily but instead of bringing it back to her, he ran to Silly and presented her with the ball. Silly opened her mouth, her tongue hanging out to the side and Clarke could've sworn she was smiling.

"Must be love," Bellamy declared with a solemn nod and Clarke grinned at him.

They stayed in the forest for another hour or so, alternating between idle but pleasant small talk and just watching their dogs play with one another. Soon though, it started to go dark and Clarke could feel her stomach grumble in hunger. She enjoyed herself so much, that she almost asked Bellamy if he wanted to grab something to eat with her and the only thing that stopped her was Bellamy calling Silly to him and then she remembered they had their dogs with them.

As they walked back to their cars, parked side by side at the gate, Clarke couldn't stop herself from stealing quick glances at Bellamy. For a year and a half now, her quote-unquote _relationship_ with him escaped every definition she threw at it. There were moments when she really wanted to say that she hated him because he frustrated her to no end but then he'd say something that genuinely made her laugh and all of the sudden, she was reminded what it felt like when she was 16 and had a crush on that cute senior at her high school. And then, there were those small moments at staff meetings when he would back up her ideas, and those never failed to blindside her, no matter how often he'd done it. He had mocked her enthusiasm for her job from the moment she started as Arkadia High's new art teacher and that was what he teased her most about at the beginning, so having his support for some of her plans and ideas always felt like a fluke.

And now, here they were, chatting and laughing like old friends, like he didn't spend twenty minutes complaining about her covering up the corridor windows to his classroom with posters her students made, barely a week ago. It was yet another thing that confused her about Bellamy but what surprised her most of all was not his cheery attitude towards her but the fact that for the first time since they'd known each other, Clarke couldn't wait to see him again on Monday.

***

Over the next few months, for all that their behaviour at work stayed mostly the same, everything shifted between them since that day in the woods and it both relaxed Clarke and also messed with her head, just a little bit. And that in itself was starting to get a little frustrating.

Sure, they still traded quips and complaints but with time, Clarke realised they were both smiling the whole time. She still groaned and stomped when he stole her coffee mug and Bellamy kept taking it shamelessly but now neither one of them was able to keep the scowl for long and they both always ended up smiling about it.

And even though they never really talked about it, they continued meeting at Greens' forest, where Silly and Picasso could run away together, disappearing from their sight for long bouts of time, leaving them free to entertain each other. And left alone in the middle of no-where, what else could they do but talk—about everything. From complaining about some of their shared students, through vet appointments to their families, Clarke opened up to Bellamy like she hadn’t done with anyone in a while.

Even after nearly two years in Arkadia, she still hadn’t been able to find any close friends, nor did she even try particularly hard. It wasn’t easy for her to open up to people but with Bellamy, now that they moved past their animosities, it felt less daunting. And, it seemed, Bellamy enjoyed it just as much as Clarke did. He never said it explicitly, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out that ever since his sister moved away from Arkadia last year, he’d been lonely and yet about as enthusiastic about meeting new people as Clarke was.

Getting to know him now, she was finally able to look past all the bullshit they flung at each other and see the man he really was behind the veneer of a complete dickishness. But no matter how much she softened towards him since they started hanging out together, with their dogs, there was still one thing she couldn't shake, the one insult that cut started this whole animosity between them.

From the moment she started at Arkadia High, Bellamy had been nothing but dismissive about her, her subject and the projects she wanted to work on with her students. He teased her about her excitement, smirked when she mentioned starting a club and in the end, informed her that no-one would take her seriously because every student treated the art classes like the perfect opportunity to catch up on work for literally any other, more important class. History, for example.

Had it come at any other moment, Clarke probably would've brushed him off as any other prick who liked to assert his dominance over the rest of his co-workers and that would've been that. But that first day was different for Clarke, it felt almost monumental because not only had she just started at her first proper teaching position but it was the first time she moved so far away from home, to a town she didn't know, where she had no-one to rely on but herself.

And yes, she did have numerous 'discussions' with her mother about it. Abby seemed to have given up on convincing her daughter to go to med school but did she really have to move? The prestigious Alpha Academy would've welcomed an alumna amongst the staff and headmaster Kane wouldn't mind this small favour, for sure.

Clarke wanted to this on her own, though. So, she moved to Arkadia and on that very first day of work, anxious but excited as she was, she was understandably on edge. Delicately speaking. Which is why when Bellamy shot her down as quickly as he did, Clarke'd had enough. She snapped back at him, barely stopping herself from yelling, and it was decided. Before she'd even known his name, they were on opposite sides.

Their attitudes changed over the months, Bellamy stopped picking at every single thing she did at some point and they both moved on to just generally quipping at each other but Clarke couldn't just forget that look of dismissal she'd seen in his eyes on that first day. It brought up her insecurities right up to the surface and now, she still couldn't quite connect that guy with the person she'd got to know ever since they started taking their dogs out together.

But at the same time, she was wary of starting that conversation. What was the point of dredging up this old grudge if they both silently decided to just move part it? Why risk the companionship, the still-fresh friendship they had now, just to rehash all of that?

And to be honest, the more Clarke thought about it, the more she suspected it was slowly becoming a little more than just friendship. Maybe much more than that, frankly.

As winter turned into spring and that into summer, Clarke had to admit to herself that something else blossomed between them, as well. Sure, she'd grown to consider him one of her closest friends but it wasn't friendship that spread the warmth all throughout her body whenever she heard Silly barking and she knew Bellamy would join her any moment. And it certainly wasn't friendship that, every once in a while, made her want to follow him home and never leave.

There could be no ifs or buts about that, she was slowly but surely falling for Bellamy and that was—really messing with her. She hadn’t felt like that for anyone since Lexa and that didn’t end very happily, so it wasn’t filling her with much confidence now. Especially since she had no idea if her feelings were in any way reciprocated. Sure, sometimes she’d catch Bellamy looking at her with that soft, soft smile that made his eyes crinkle and every time, she had to look away so he wouldn’t catch her blushing but that was hardly a declaration of affection. But just like with their old grudge, Clarke preferred not to start that conversation, either. That could only make things awkward and what would be the point of that?

But anyway, all those romantic musings were pushed to the back of her mind when one Friday afternoon and the beginning of June, Clarke checked the list for the trip to the 20th century art museum she was organising and noticed that one Bellamy Blake signed in to chaperone the trip. Clarke knew he’d already left for the day but tomorrow would be a perfect opportunity to have one of those conversations she knew they needed to have. And she decided that this time she wouldn’t chicken out.


	2. Chapter 2

When Clarke parked her car by the entrance to the Greens’ forest that Saturday, Bellamy was already there. She knew he would’ve been seeing how she was already late by the time she and Picasso left home that morning. They never set a specific meeting time but over those last few months, they’ve worked out a certain routine that Clarke wasn’t sticking to this morning. She was a little too busy getting nervous to look at the clock, to be honest.

She probably should’ve just called him last night and be done with it because instead, she’d spent the whole evening overthinking the whole thing, making it into a much bigger issue than it needed to be. She just couldn’t work out the why.

Why would he sign up, and without ever mentioning it to her, if he thought art was useless? What was the point of coming on this trip, if he held her subject in such disregard? It surely wasn’t for the money because the extra pay the school offered for chaperoning was, quite frankly, not worth sacrificing their day off. So why on earth would he want to go and why didn’t he say anything to her about that? He supported her when she presented her idea to the principal but Clarke just assumed it was a sign of their camaraderie, not interest on his part.

When she finally pulled up next to Bellamy’s car and opened the boot, Picasso shot toward the trees so fast he nearly toppled her over. Clarke snickered to herself. There she was, mulling over whether or not the boy she liked felt the same and even her dog had better game than her. Picasso and Silly were beyond cute together and she almost regretted that no children could come out of it.

Clarke checked her phone, saw that Bellamy answered with thumbs up to her text apologising for the delay and took a quick breath before she followed Picasso to where Bellamy waited.

As usual, her heart quickened when she saw him.

He was leaning against a tree, shaking with laughter as he watched the dogs rolling around in the grass. He had his arms crossed over his chest which caused his tight white t-shirt to stretch over his arms and back. His loose jeans were hanging low on his hips and the sight of him made Clarke gulp. Her attraction to him was never in question and if seeing him all bundled up in sweaters and jackets was making her squirm sometimes, she started to suspect she’s not gonna survive the summer.

Bellamy smiled widely at her when Clarke came up to him and to some extent, it eased her nerves. Sure, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were standing on some pretty big issues but he was still her friend. That one thing she didn’t doubt and if stewing alone at home, overthinking everything made her lose sleep, then actually seeing him now calmed her down. She'd learnt that she could talk to him about everything, so she did.

“I saw that you signed up as a chaperone for the museum trip, why?” Clarke shot out quickly, before she could get distracted. “I thought you believed that art was a waste of time.”

“No, I don’t. Of course I don’t.” Bellamy turned to her and dropped his arms to hang loosely at his sides. One of his palms brushed against her hip and Clarke realised how close to each other they were standing. She took a tiny step to the side and put her hands on her hips. She straightened up, hoping to appear as tall and confident as possible.

“Oh, really? Cause I distinctly remember you saying that it didn’t matter what I do, the students would still use my classes to do something more interesting, like ever the most boring of homework.”

Bellamy let out a long breath. He ran his hand through his hair nervously and shot her a strange look that caused Clarke to furrow her brow ever so slightly. Why was _he_ nervous?

“I’m _so_ sorry about that, Clarke,” he said in a serious voice and looked at her with such an honest expression that made froze her in place for a split second.

“I know it’s a lousy excuse but the last art teacher we had was an old prick who was counting off the days until retirement and whose entire knowledge of art came from watching _Mona Lisa Smile_. We all got so used to teasing him about how all the students would call his class ‘a free period’, that when you came along, with all that enthusiasm and ideas, I was so surprised and all that bullshit just came out. And I didn’t expect you to start yelling back at me, so I got defensive and I let it spiral out of control. I didn’t actually mean any of that but we just kept winding each other up and I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Clarke nodded her head. Yeah, she’d heard that about Dante Wallace and she had to grudgingly admit that some students expected her to carry on in the same manner but luckily, she was able to establish her own way of doing things quickly enough and both her and her students settled into a nice dynamin.

But to think that all that bullshit between her and Bellamy was because he didn’t like the work ethics of someone who held the job before her? She couldn’t really believe that.

Clarke was about to ask Bellamy about it but before she could, Bellamy continued. He had a tiny, nervous smile on his face and she had no idea where this was going.

“And besides, you were quite intimidating,” he said and Clarke’s jaw dropped. Bellamy chuckled lightly at her expression.

"You were!" he insisted with a grin. "You came in with all that confidence and commanding presence, with ideas, sure about how you wanted to do things. It made an impression on everyone and I don't know," he rubbed the back of his head, "I wasn't sure what to think, so I went on the offensive."

Clarke closed her mouth and opened it again a couple of times.

"You thought I was impressive and intimidating?" she asked incredulously. "I was terrified!"

"Trust me, it didn't show," Bellamy assured her and Clarke felt herself blush. She bit her lip and looked up at him from under her eyelashes. She was about to say something fun and witty, or at least try to, but she noticed that Bellamy's face suddenly grew more serious and a shadow cast over his eyes. He looked away from her and she stayed silent, not knowing what he was about to say next.

"And," he cleared his throat and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets. He curled in on himself slightly and to Clarke, he almost looked—small. Smaller, at least than he usually did and smaller than she ever thought possible.

Bellamy looked back at her and the vulnerability in his eyes made Clarke's finger twitch. She wanted to reach out and comfort him but he looked so tense, she didn't dare touch him.

He sighed.

"Two weeks before the school year stared, Octavia was arrested for assault," Bellamy said and shot Clarke a quick glance when she let out a surprised gasp. She knew a little about his sister's legal troubles but he never shared the whole story and she never asked, sensing that the subject was a touchy one and didn't want to push him.

"She got into a fight after some party, the guy ended in hospital and she was facing prison time, it was—awful. I put up our house to secure her bail and pay for her lawyer and she just, she acted like it was no big deal. Not long before her first court appearance, we had this huge fight because the way she was behaving, I wasn't even sure if she was gonna show up, which would've meant that I would lose the house. I was stressed, pissed off at the whole world and when you came in, with your fancy diploma and your nice clothes, and everyone listened to you like you owned the place—and I just blew up. To be honest, it wasn't even about you, I just wanted to make someone feel as miserable as I was."

"I'm sorry about that, Clarke. And I'm sorry that I didn't apologise to you earlier."

"It's okay," Clarke said quietly, automatically, because she had no idea what else to say. She never saw any of that coming and it put— _everything_ in a different light.

"No, it isn't." Bellamy shook his head firmly. "I took my anger on you and later, when you fought back, I convinced myself that it somehow made us even and kept on antagonising you. It took months for me to finally pull my head of my arse but by then, I was certain that you hated me, so there was no point in apologising. But I should've. I was in the wrong there and I am sorry, really."

"I never hated you, not really," Clarke answered and Bellamy just cocked an eyebrow, a look full of doubt on his face.

"I thought I did, at first. But to be honest, it wasn't about you either. I told you I was scared, at the beginning. I had no idea what I was doing, so I just ploughed on. When you undermined every single thing I said and thought about myself, I decided I'm not gonna let you win by showing you that what you said got to me."

"But after some time, I don't know. I didn't exactly enjoy it but I guess I appreciated that you kept me on my toes." Bellamy's brow furrowed in surprise, so Clarke explained. "I had a million ideas because I wanted to prove to everyone that I was useful but I know that not all of them were really viable. And you only really fought me on the most useless ones. I mean, sure, you had an opinion about _every single thing_ ," she rolled her eyes lightly, "but you actually helped with the Christmas fair and the fundraising exhibit."

"If you're trying to make me feel better by saying that me being an arse helped you get better at your job—"

"Well, I definitely could've done without the 'arse' part," Clarke laughed. "But you did help, somehow. I kept saying to myself – it's not such a harebrained scheme if Bellamy Blake only had one or two complaints," she finished with a cheeky grin and to her delight, Bellamy barked a loud, full-belly laughter.

"I'll take it," he finally said, his voice so much lighter now.

"I'm sorry, too," Clarke added and raised her hand to stop him when she saw Bellamy had opened his mouth to contradict her. "I didn't have to bite back at you so ferociously as I did."

Bellamy nodded then, once. And if he wanted to say anything else, he never got the chance because Silly and Picasso, who Clarke only now realised were suspiciously missing the whole time she and Bellamy talked, came at them running and yapping, covered in dust and straw. Clarke caught Picasso by his collar and tried to brush it off of him but gave up quickly. Silly kept bumping her head against Clarke's elbow, encouraging Clarke to pet her and Bellamy just stood there with a soft smile on his face. She looked at him with exasperation and he just shrugged, as if to say “what do you want _me_ to do?”

Clarke gave up on her dog, stood up and wiped her hands on her skirt.

“So, the museum trip?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Would you believe that I actually wanted to go there for a while but just never had the chance?”

“Why not.” Clarke shrugged one shoulder and nodded. “After all, I’m pretty sure you’re not going there for the company of 20 teenagers.”

“Not _their_ company, no,” Bellamy confirmed and crouched down to brush the twigs out of Silly’s hair.

And a good thing that he did because his off-hand remark momentarily froze Clarke in her spot. She finally caught herself staring at the back of his head and snapped out of it. Why the hell did he have to be co confusing?

Soon, the summer sun became sweltering and unbearable, so they decided to head home, especially when they noticed that the dogs were hiding in the shadow more and more.

“So, what happened with your sister?” Clarke asked quietly as they walked back to their cars. Bellamy stayed silent for a few paces.

“She got lucky,” he said eventually. “Her lawyer found witnesses who confirmed that the guy she hurt was harassing one of her friends and Octavia was actually defending her, and then, the guy fully recovered without a problem. Still, she used excessive force, so she plead guilty to some lesser charges and it all ended in probation.”

“She left Arkadia the moment the probation was over, saying that nothing good ever happened here,” he said when they reached the gate. This time Clarke didn’t hesitate, she reached out to him, put her hand on his forearm and gave him a gentle squeeze. He sent her a half-smile.

“I think it’s actually better this way, when we’re apart longer and she’s got her own life. I finally feel like her brother and not mother, father and jailer.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Clarke agreed, thinking about her own mother and how much easier talking to her had been since she moved away. “Gives you a chance to actually miss her, right?”

Bellamy nodded and while she finished pouring water into the bowls for the dogs, he moved so he was leaning against Clarke’s car, right next to where she was standing. Their hands brushed again, sending an electric shock down her spine and grounding her firmly in her spot until she felt Bellamy’s fingers twitch against the bare skin of her thigh. She took a sharp breath through her nose—

And then she yelped and jumped up in the air when Picasso, now rehydrated and reinvigorated, jammed his wet, cold hose against the delicate skin at the back of her knee. The dog barked at her gleefully and eventually, she wasn’t sure at whom to glare – Picasso, or Bellamy, who by now was nearly bent over the bonnet of her car, laughing so hard that tears were coming out of his eyes.

“Thank you for that,” she told Picasso, looking at him in the rear-view mirror, once she and Bellamy packed up into their respective cars, drove away towards Arkadia and on the first junction, she went straight into the town, while he drove around, to get to his home, on the other side of it.

“You found yourself a girlfriend, you may as well give me a chance, too,” Clarke went on and huffed when Picasso grumbled at her and dropped to the floor for a nap.

Great, now she officially envied her dog.

***

The trip to the museum turned out to be a smashing success.

Well, alright, it simply went off without a hitch and the students seemed to have enjoyed it, which was an achievement in its own right. But to Clarke, it was honestly one of the most enjoyable days she’d had in a long time.

They'd given the students free time to explore the museum on their own but most of them stayed with Clarke and Bellamy, enthralled just as she was by the bits of trivia and stories he added to her own presentations. Clarke knew that his favourite subject had always been ancient history so she didn't expect him to have such an immense knowledge of the modern art history. Quite frankly, it was incredibly hot.

She sure as hell hoped that none of the kids noticed that she kept staring at him but hell, how could she not when he was gesturing with his hands so passionately, when he kept running his fingers through his hair, messing his curls more and more every time.

And on the way back home, when she dozed off on Bellamy’s shoulder, she vaguely remembered him actually manoeuvring them so that she could be more comfortable. In that moment before she fell asleep, she could’ve sworn she felt him run his hand through her hair but when she woke up when the bus hit pothole, his hand were in his lap. He also had his eyes closed and his breathing was evened out, like he was asleep himself, so she relaxed once again and went back to sleep.

Bellamy dropped her off later in the evening and as she watched him drive away, she felt warm all over and it had nothing to do with the heat wave they’d been experiencing lately.

A couple of weeks later, once the summer holiday started and they had much more free time, they agreed to take the dogs out more often and later in the day, so that none of them had to suffer under the burning sun. And no matter how much she tried to tell herself that it didn’t have to necessarily mean anything, she could help thinking that those long evenings in the woods were terribly romantic.

On the next Sunday night, Clarke drove over to the forest and nearly skipped over to their meeting point. Only Bellamy wasn’t there. Instead, there was a young woman standing with her back to Clarke, her long, dark hair cascading down her back. She turned around and waved when Silly recognised Clarke and ran over to her for a greeting.

“Bellamy’s ill,” the woman called out and jogged over to Clarke. “I’m Octavia, his sister,” she introduced herself and extended her hand towards Clarke with a smile. There must’ve been quite a confusion still on Clarke’s face because Octavia huffed lightly. “He was supposed to call you after I left but with how much Night Nurse I made him drink, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised if he just fell asleep in the middle of dialling.”

“Is he okay?” Clarke seemed to have finally found her voice again.

“Oh, yeah, he’ll be fine. How did he managed to catch a cold in this weather remains a mystery, though.” Octavia sent Clarke a knowing look, which brought a small smile to her face. But at the same time, there was an odd chill running down her spine when she saw how Octavia was looking at her.

There was so much interest in her eyes, so much—not calculating exactly, but Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling like the woman was trying to observe and decipher every little thing about her and she couldn’t figure out what was that all about. 

Despite that, Octavia’s company was unexpectedly pleasant. For all that they’d never met before, Clarke had already known quite a bit about her and not all of it favourable, and judging by that look in Octavia’s eyes, she suspected Bellamy might’ve mentioned her to his sister once or twice as well.

The conversation flew quite easily between them, surprisingly so, though there was some edge to Octavia's voice and a certain glint in her eye that meant that Clarke couldn't entirely relax in the other woman's presence, not like she could with Bellamy. She did, however, have a commanding and captivating presence, and Clarke had to admit she enjoyed talking to her, even if she remained wary. She knew from Bellamy that his sister, charming as she could be if she only wanted to, was also mercurial and unpredictable—and knowing all that about a person even before you ever had a chance to properly get to know them definitely put some strain on any potential relationship. 

And Clarke assumed that just as she had her predetermined idea, maybe even an opinion, about Bellamy's sister, Octavia must've had one herself, so they stuck to more neutral subjects, like their jobs and how obviously smitten Picasso and Silly were with each other. In the end, the unexpected meeting was much more fun than Clarke expected but she also couldn't help thinking that no matter how much she tried to hide it, Octavia could tell with absolute certainty that Clarke was pretty disappointed that she couldn't see Bellamy.

***

The next morning, Clarke debated calling Bellamy. Yes, they exchanged numbers a while ago and they did have an ongoing thread of sending each other puns and memes but phone calls were—different. Maybe it was the millennial in her that abhorred the idea of actually _calling_ another adult, when she could just as easily text them, even if it was Bellamy, but the truth was, even with their friendship, with all the sharing and growing closer, they didn't call each other. Never had, if Clarke really thought about it. Until very recently, they used to see each other every day at work _and_ every weekend in the forest, and beyond the near onslaught of photographic content, they mostly texted to say one of them would be late and/or they were bringing coffee.

Clarke was so unused to not communicating with Bellamy face-to-face that she actually dreaded the possibility now, even after all this time. But frankly, he was confusing enough on his own, when she could see his face and hopefully read the expression he was wearing.

She _so_ didn't need to hear the deep rasp of his voice speaking directly into her ear.

Fuck, though, because Clarke wanted to talk to him. If he was ill, she wanted to ask if she could help him somehow. And most importantly, though she tried to downplay it as much as possible when she talked out loud to Picasso, his ears perked right up and eyes following her every move, she missed Bellamy. It's only been a few days since she'd seen him last but hell, Clarke missed him.

And she very much wanted to hear the deep rasp of his voice speaking directly into her ear.

However, before she had the chance to decide whether or not to call, her phone rang, as if to remind her of its existence. Clarke, focused entirely on her pros-and-cons list, jumped up in surprise. She frowned when she saw an unknown number calling her. It wasn't unusual that her students' parents somehow managed to dig up her private number and called her at all hours to discuss all those pressing matters regarding their offspring's artistic education, so she was used to answering those calls. The unfamiliar area code, however, caught her off guard. Her hesitation lasted for long enough that the song she used as a ringtone nearly ended, so she hurried to answer it before it was sent to voicemail.

She barely even had the chance to say a word, before the caller cut in.

"Clarke, hi!" Octavia exclaimed enthusiastically. There was a loud sound of a car horn that momentarily drowned out her voice, causing Clarke to move her head away from the phone, but Octavia went on unbothered. "—mind but I found your number in Bell's phone. Great taste in music, by the way, I know the guys from Moonshine, I went to high school with Jasper and Monty, they're really awesome."

As Octavia rambled on, Clarke could feel her heart rate pick up. Not only did Octavia took her contact info, but apparently she also read through her conversation with Bellamy and quite a lot of it—it must've been at least a few months since he recommended the local band to Clarke and she ended up raving to him about it after she went to one of their live shows. It did bother her, knowing that a virtual stranger went through her conversation, sparse in personal information as is was, but still.

Another car horn sounded off in a distance and Octavia stopped for a moment, just long enough to swear at some other driver, before her attention returned to Clarke.

"I have a favour to ask. As it turns out, Bellamy's got laryngitis or some other –itis, I'm not sure. But one of our neighbours is a doctor, so he checked him out and gave him some prescription. I was supposed to go and pick it up but my boss called, so I had to go back to work, like, right now. I put the order in and it's all paid for, I just need you to pick it up and take it to him."

"Please," she added after a beat, like she'd just remembered to be polite.

"Octavia," Clarke said her name slowly, still processing the amount of information she's just been given.

"Look, I know this is super last minute," the woman interrupted hurriedly, "but if I tell that to Bellamy, he's gonna go there to pick it up himself and with his luck, he's gonna catch pneumonia, or will get hit by a truck."

"Octavia," Clarke insisted, "I'll do it, it's not a problem! I just don't have his address."

There was a pause on the other end of the call and a small sigh.

"Of course you don't," Octavia grumbled, as if to herself, and then lauder, to Clarke, she said "don't worry 'bout it, I'll text it to you, and the pharmacy's, too."

"And, like, don't worry if Bellamy's not answering, just keep banging on the door. He probably went back to sleep and that dog of his is about as useful at guarding anything as a hat stand."

Clarke agreed to it easily but whatever follow-up questions she may have had, she never got a chance to ask them because as soon as Octavia heard a yes, she hanged up the phone with a distant _thanks_.

Clarke huffed and tossed her phone onto her couch. She followed it quickly, dropping heavily onto the cushions. It wasn't until she got Octavia's text and decided to save her number, that she realised that Bellamy most likely didn't even know that Octavia had to go and she left him without a word of good-bye.

"Family, huh?" she asked Picasso and nodded solemnly when he lowered his head to the ground and covered his muzzle with his paw.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later, Clarke stood on the front porch of a small but very well-maintained house in the suburbs, with a one bag full of antibiotics and another filled with groceries. There were nicks and scratches all over the place that spoke to a lifetime that Bellamy had spent in here, first with his mother and sister, and now on his own, but it felt like a home in a way the mansion her mother owned never could.

She hesitated only for another moment and finally rang the bell. When no-one answered at first, she followed Octavia's advice and rang it again, longer this time and more insistently. For a moment, the house stayed just as quiet as ever but finally, she could hear some faint barking and the unmistakable sound of nails scratching on the hardwood floor. She smiled to herself.

"Why the fuck to you even insist on keeping a key, if you're not using it?" Clarke could hear Bellamy complain from behind the door as the locks rattled. He sounded ill alright. Congested, for sure, with a throat that must've felt like sandpaper. Then, he yanked the door open, clearly ready to yell at his sister some more, pain be damned, but he stopped abruptly when he realised who she was.

Silly didn't have such reservation, though, she ran out of the house and jumped at Clarke, who at the last moment put the bags on the ground and bent her knees, so she could catch the dog. After a loud, happy bark and a litany of yips that were surely meant as a greeting, Silly ran past her to the front yard and after checking the length of the front gate, she came back looking rather disappointed.

"Sorry, babe, Picasso's not here," Clarke explained, scratching Silly behind her ear, which seemed to earn her a little forgiveness.

Bellamy coughed horribly behind her. Clarke turned around quickly and had to bite her lip in order not to grin at him—too much. He must've been absolutely miserable but damn if he wasn't the cutest. He was wearing a pair of fleece pyjama pants with Santa's hats on them and an old college t-shirt, so washed-off that she could barely recognise the emblem. His eyes were a little blood-shot and his nose red, the glasses perched on it crookedly. His hair looked like a bird's nest and never before in her life did Clarke want to run her fingers through it so badly.

She quickly picked up her previously discarded bags, hoping to distract herself and stop herself from doing something stupid, like actually following up on that desire.

"I come bearing gifts," she said when the silence between them stretched.

Bellamy finally snapped out of his daze.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?" he asked, the question ending with a wheeze and Clarke's shoulders shook in a barely contained chuckle.

"Your sister called me," she said and Bellamy's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "She said she had to go back to Polis, to work, and asked me to pick up your meds."

"You didn't have to do that," Bellamy started to protest but a loud cough contradicted him, so he just took a step back and waved his hand inviting her in.

Clarke followed him down the corridor and to the back of the house, to the living room where he told her to sit down while he took everything to the kitchen. She tried not to openly ogle every single thing she saw but she suspected she failed miserably, too interested in the childhood pictures hanging on the walls. She followed Bellamy to the kitchen, too, saying that she came to help him, not to be treated like a guest.

Bellamy rolled his eyes at her insistence but when she pushed him down onto a chair, he slumped against it, visibly tired.

Clarke unpacked the groceries and prepared his medicine, talking the whole time. About meeting Octavia the day before, about the unexpected phone call she got from her this morning, about the ridiculously long line of people in front of her at the pharmacy. She was a little bit nervous about being here, at his home. Bellamy remained mostly quiet, aside from the occasional grunt of acknowledgment, and Clarke told herself that it was simply because he was unwell, not because he didn't want her there, invading his privacy.

After he'd taken his medicine and Clarke was done with the fridge, she went into what Wells called her 'I-was-supposed-to-be-a-doctor' mode. She looked Bellamy over, put the kettle on so she could make tea and moved on to the living room, where she opened up the windows to let the fresh air in. She took one quick look at the pile of blankets and pillows that Bellamy must've laid in, grabbed one of the blankets and after giving it a firm beating, took it to Bellamy so he could cover himself with it. She flipped the pillows, closed the windows and went back to the kitchen to finish making the tea, telling herself all the way that if Bellamy wanted her gone he would've said something.

Finally, Clarke led him back to the living room, sat him down on the couch, placed the tea on the table in front of him and explained how to take his meds throughout the day, while Bellamy fell sideways onto the couch and curled himself into a ball, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. Clarke smiled at him fondly and spread the other blanket over his legs.

She was about to step away, grab her things and go, when his hand shot up from under the blanket, his thick, warm fingers wrapping around her wrist weakly.

"Stay," he croaked. Clarke crouched in front of him, his hand now closed over hers, his thumb rubbing at the vein on the inside of her wrist. His eyes were unfocused but he was looking straight at her.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I can leave, if you want to rest."

"I never want you to leave, I hate seeing you go," Bellamy said, easy, completely unaware that Clarke’s world just shifted on its axis.

Clarke looked at him, at his beautiful, tired face and her heart jumped right up and lodged itself in her throat.

So she stayed.

After the meds kicked in, he seemed more awake, so they pulled up Netflix and started watching some comedy show which title she might’ve remembered if she paid any attention to it—it quickly became just a background noise as Bellamy started telling her about Octavia’s surprise visit and how he probably got ill when some kid kept coughing at him the whole way on the bus when he and Octavia went to the movies.

Later, Clarke heated up the soup that she’d bought for him, fed and walked Silly, and when she came back, Bellamy had already dozed off on the couch, snoring lightly.

Clarke crouched in front of him again, her fingers brushing the curls away from his face.

“Bell, I gotta go home,” she whispered. Bellamy hummed but didn’t open his eyes. Clarke was glad he didn’t or else she would never leave.

She ran her thumb over his forehead and places a gentle kiss there. She froze for a second when Bellamy moved but he didn’t wake up, so she got up, left him a note saying she was taking his keys so she could lock up the house and went back home, where she spent the rest of the night trying very hard not to overanalyse how soft his voice sounded when he said he wanted her to stay.

***

The next morning, Clarke arrived at his doorstep with his keys in hand and Picasso in tow. The dog pranced around her legs restlessly but Clarke hesitated before coming in, playing with the keys instead.

Did Bellamy mean when he said last night? And if so, did that mean he actually had feelings for her? Hell, Clarke wasn’t even sure if he would remember that he said anything at all. Or that it was anything more that fevered ramblings.

She groaned and shook her head, once again feeling like a teenager, agonising over a boy. Spending all her days around high school students really took its toll.

Clarke blew a raspberry, rang the doorbell and let herself in, Picasso running past her inside the house with a whine. She called out when she came in and a groan answered her from the living room. When Clarke reached him, he was sitting on the couch with both dogs on top of him, demanding attention. He laughed at them and Clarke notice with relief that he looked so much better than he did the day before.

Coming further into the room, she smiled lightly.

"I brought you back your keys," she explained lamely and clenched her teeth, hoping it stopped her from rolling her eyes. She was tense as fuck, not sure how to talk to Bellamy. Which was ridiculous, she knew. Nothing changed between them, he didn't make some grand confession that could explain her nerves. But it was—something.

After all those months of wondering if touching her was an accident or if he wanted to make a move, Bellamy outwardly asking her to stay was a milestone. Or it would've been if Clarke had any idea what Bellamy meant by it. He'd never done anything that she couldn't have explained to herself as platonic affection, never once made an obvious move. Which meant that if she pushed towards something romantic herself only to find out she was misinterpreting things, she would open herself for heartbreak and loss she wasn't sure she never knew how to handle.

It was a startling realisation that she'd had a while back, that she'd never actually been friends with any one of her exes. Wells may have been her first kiss and she'd loved him for almost her entire life but she was never _in_ love with him and they never took things any further. The closest she ever came to that was Niylah because they'd known and liked each other for a while before they started sleeping together but that was neither much of a real friendship, nor a romance. Any other romantic relationship she'd ever had started out as with passion and attraction, and as sad and depressing it may be, they all fell apart once they got to know each other better and figured out they didn't work at all.

Though it didn't seem to make any sense, Bellamy was somehow all of those things and none of those things.

Passion, they'd had an abundance of, that one was clear to anyone who'd ever seen them together. And if she could trust her own judgement when she would sometimes catch Bellamy's gaze lingering on one part of her body or another, attraction wasn't an issue either. But there was so much more than just that between them.

Although it took her by surprise, he was now, without a doubt, her best and closest friend. The one person in the whole world with whom she felt like she could talk about anything and actually wanted to do so.

Well, anything except the fact that she was falling for him like crazy.

It's been way over a decade but Clarke still remembered how awkward things got when Wells confessed his feelings for her and after one uncomfortable kiss, she was forced to shoot him down. It created a distance between them that took months to close and she no longer had that teenage recovery time and this wasn't some puppy infatuation. She didn't think she'd know how to get over that rejection, especially if it meant she wouldn't be able to turn to the one person she'd need.

The sound of Bellamy’s laughter turned into a coughing fit pulled Clarke back to reality. The dogs jumped off the couch and raced to the door, bumping into each other playfully. Clarke let them out into the yard and went back to the living room, bringing a glass of water for Bellamy.

“Thanks,” he choked out between coughs.

“You shouldn’t let them jump on you like that, Bellamy.” Clarke dropped onto the armchair on the opposite of Bellamy and shook her head as he wrapped himself in a blanket and hummed. He looked at her then, his expression suddenly serious.

“Thank you for taking care of me yesterday. I’m sure you had better things to do during the summer, so ‘m sorry that my sister just dumped it all on your head like that.”

Clarke frowned.

“It wasn’t a problem, really,” she assured him, a tiny crinkle forming between her eyes. She hesitated then, for a second. “I—I was glad your sister called. I wanted to see you.” 

Bellamy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he looked—hopeful. Clarke looked at him for a moment, at the soft look in his eyes, and made the decision.

She got up from the armchair and moved closer, to sit on the coffee table in front of him. Bellamy looked up at her, surprise painting his features. Clarke sat down, her knees knocking against Bellamy’s. His hand moved and he rested it on the side of her leg, his thumb tapping lightly against her patella absentmindedly. His fingers were rough against her skin and it sent a wave of warmth straight to her core. His eyes never left her face, though, and Clarke wasn’t sure he even knew he was doing it.

She cleared her throat.

“I—uh, I wanted to see you, see how you were doing, I mean,” Clarke said. Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up and she frowned. No, she wasn’t saying it right.

“Um, I missed you,” she stuttered out, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the pillow behind his back. If she had been looking, she would’ve seen how his lips parted in silent awe, how the corners of his mouth twitched upwards for a moment, before he closed his mouth and swallowed. But instead, she dropped her head slightly and sighed when he remained silent. “I like you,” she mumbled into her knees and chanced a look up when she felt his fingers twitch and close around her upper calf.

Bellamy had a tiny smirk on and a delighted expression on his face but Clarke still groaned before burying her face in her hands. She ran her fingers through her hair.

“Ugh, listen to me! I sound like a 13-year-old.” She finally looked straight at Bellamy who was now smiling at her in full. “I really spend too much time with the kids.”

Bellamy chuckled, took his hand off of her leg and grabbed her hand instead.

“That’s okay, cause I like you, too,” he admitted.

Clarke felt herself deflate, tension leaving her and causing her shoulders to drop slightly in relief.

“You never said anything!” She argued. Her fingers moved inside his grasp and she wrapped them more firmly around his.

“Neither did you,” Bellamy countered. He screwed up his face, his expression growing a little more serious. He shrugged his shoulders and the blanked slipped down his back. He didn’t notice. “I didn’t know how to tell you that. Both my serious relationships started when I picked them at the bar for a hook-up and we decided we actually enjoyed our company. And that was—I mean, there wasn’t much need for talking at first, you know?”

Bellamy slumped down and coughed into his elbow. Clarke moved to get up and get him something to drink but he shook his head instead and squeezed her fingers. She must’ve still had an alarmed look at her face because Bellamy waved his other hand to reassure her that he was fine.

“You wanna know the funny thing—I wanted to talk to _you_ about it. I mean, who’d know better how to tell _you_ how I felt, right?” he said with a grimace. Clarke pressed her lips into a thin line, so that she wouldn’t laugh. It worked for a breath but then a snort and a high-pitched belt of laughter escaped her.

“We’re both really brilliant, aren’t we?” Clarke asked, still giggling a little. Bellamy let out a long breath of air and leaned forward. His free hand moved up her body, brushing against her arm, which sent a spark to the tips of her fingers. Bellamy tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. Clarke bit her lip, her eyes dropping momentarily to his mouth before snapping back up.

Bellamy groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked and Bellamy sent her a helpless look.

“I really want to kiss you right now, but I don’t think it would make a good impression if I infected you with something right now,” he explained. “I mean, you probably shouldn’t even be here at all right now.”

“I could leave,” she teased.

“Trust me,” Bellamy said, his hand resting around the side of her neck. “That is _literally_ the last thing I want.”

Clarke could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks. She bit her lip and Bellamy looked at her pleadingly. The hand holding hers closed even tighter. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, Clarke but a step away from surging forward and kissing him, illness be damned. But before she could actually do it, they heard whining at the front door, nails scratching at the door.

“Saved by the bark,” Clarke joked lamely but Bellamy still let out a low chuckle.

He let go of her, so she could go and let the dogs in. When Clarke came back, he was lying on the couch, tangled in the blanket. His eyelids were dropping.

“I think that was all the energy I had for today,” he said when Clarke sat back down on the table. She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair, rubbing her fingers against the back of his neck. His eyes closed slowly, his breathing evened out and soon he was asleep.

Clarke took her hand back but stayed bent forward slightly, just watching him for a while. Bellamy let out a soft huff in his sleep and Clarke’s heart swelled with affection. She was still a little afraid to call it love already. She worried about how will this relationship work when they go back to their jobs in the autumn and they’ll end up spending almost all of their time together. But as Bellamy shifted and buried half of his face into his pillow, she realised that she didn’t care about that, not really. He was worth trying.

A loud yawn distracted her from her thoughts and away from Bellamy. She look to the side, to where Silly laid nestled into Picasso’s side. He yawned again, quieter this time, and put his head right next to hers. Clarke smiled to herself, picked up the spare pillow and went back to the armchair. She sat down with her legs thrown over the arm rest, her head pillowed against the back of the chair. She closed her eyes and slowly dozed off, lulled by the familiar sound of Picasso’s light snores.

Leaving was the last thing she wanted, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this! thank you so very much for reading. comments and kudos will be welcomed like manna ;-)  
> come and find me on tumblr @[carrieeve](https://carrieeve.tumblr.com).


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